


heart-shape box

by notthelasttime



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: (kept INCREDIBLY vague but it's there), Age Difference, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Lingerie, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Stockings, mentions of teen Ignis having a crush but Cor does not reciprocate until he is a consenting adult, the most mild of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-10 09:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18657910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthelasttime/pseuds/notthelasttime
Summary: Insomnia did not sleep. Of course not, all flashing city lights and clubs and bars and workaholics burning the midnight oil. Ignis watched it all pass by from the passenger's side window, a world outside himself and everything he'd ever known. A life he wouldn't ever know, not so long as he was sworn to the Crown. They were at a stoplight stuck on red when he felt the warm palm of Cor's hand come to rest on his thigh. An invitation. If he wanted it.It wasn't the first time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_mad_duchess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_mad_duchess/gifts).



> _the-mad-duchess is an incredible person that deserves lots of love, respect, and all manner of good things!!!!!_  
>  (seriously I can't thank you enough for all the kindness you've shown me and help and advice you've given. seeing a new notification from you always puts a smile on my face. and while I don't have too many tangible things to give in return, writing is something I can do. so.. fic? fic. I hope you like it!! it is perhaps spicier than originally intended)

"It's late." 

Cor didn't knock. Just stood in the open door, leaning against the doorjamb and staring Ignis down with an unwavering intensity. He hadn't heard the Marshal approach, which was bad, and he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding how unbalanced he was because of it, which was worse. He could flip it around, ask what Cor was doing here himself, still roaming the Citadel so late and so far away from his own office and the training rooms he commanded, but Ignis would turn pink if left to think too much about it. He pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You should be long gone by now, Ignis," Cor was chiding, but not entirely unkind. Particularly not when he added, "You look tired. I'll drive you home."

It wasn't the first time.

Briefcase in tow after clearing off his desk and shutting off the light, locking the door behind him. Following Cor down the hallway and in a silent elevator ride down. Silent, but not tense. Casual, as they'd done it before, walking side by side through the parking garage, and into the familiar interior of Cor's car, kept meticulously clean. 

Insomnia did not sleep. Of course not, all flashing city lights and clubs and bars and workaholics burning the midnight oil. Ignis watched it all pass by from the passenger's side window, a world outside himself and everything he'd ever known. A life he wouldn't ever know, not so long as he was sworn to the Crown. They were at a stoplight stuck on red when he felt the warm palm of Cor's hand come to rest on his thigh. An invitation. If he wanted it.

It wasn't the first time for that either. 

The hand would retreat, if Ignis wanted it to, if he didn't reciprocate, if he was too tired or not in the mood. Cor would not push him, he wouldn't even ask. He'd just drive Ignis home and wish him a goodnight, see him at the Citadel tomorrow, same as always. 

Ignis laid his hand over Cor's. And when the light turned green again, Cor switched lanes and took a left, heading the opposite direction of Ignis's apartment. 

Cor lived in a quiet row of townhouses, all red brick and covered in ivy, insulated by trees with gnarled and thickened trunks. It looked deceptively homey, but Ignis knew this part of town. It was premium real estate, and not just anyone could afford to live here, something that was clear from the caliber of cars lined up along the narrow street. Privacy was paid for in full. 

Just like the details of his home, Ignis thought as Cor brought him inside. If you didn't know where to look, if you didn't know what you were looking at you might think it was plain. Well kept, but average. Standard stainless steel appliances and dark wood furniture, but Ignis knew. Cor's coffee table, a sturdy looking industrial piece, probably more than what most people could afford to spend in their lifetime. The black leather couch, the sleek TV that never seemed to get any use, some of the best money could buy, even if Cor didn't have a taste for opulence. More like someone with too much money and nothing else to spend it on but still unwilling to give into frivolousness. Unwilling to let the years of service and the perks that came with it change him. Maybe that's why Ignis kept coming back.

It was two weeks since the last time. Anticipation crawling in his stomach, he let Cor bring him upstairs, into his room. The kingsized bed sat waiting for them, covered in sheets which Ignis knew had the highest thread count of the softest fabric, colored a dark slate grey. Cor turned to him, cupped his cheek and leaned down to kiss him finally, letting Ignis release the tension he didn't know he'd been holding on to since the last time he left this room. Like letting out a breath of stagnant air kept bottled up for the first time in forever. 

He like to kiss Cor as much as he could when he had the chance, trying to save that feeling, the brush of his tongue, the way his lips moved, the occasional prickle of stubble. Ignis would be content to do just that for the night, wrap his arms around Cor's neck and tease with his mouth until their lips were swollen and time was gone. Ignis never really got the chance to do much kissing.

He felt hands wander down to his hips, then to grab and squeeze his ass. 

"How do you want me?" Ignis asked, his mouth still hovering close to Cor's, and in response Cor pushing him flat back onto the bed. 

He was the quietest man Ignis had ever fucked.

Ignis was gasping for breath, sweaty and clinging onto Cor, legs spread wide and pushed up, feet in the air. If he could see himself, maybe he'd be embarrassed. As it was, all he could think about was Cor, and what his cock felt like, and how Ignis could get him to grunt again, the same way he had when Ignis had pulled him closer and gasped, _fuck me harder_.

He knew how Cor liked it, and yes, he liked it hard, and fast, and intense. He liked to get a little rough sometimes and he preferred to fuck without condoms. Ignis didn't mind any of it, but that hadn't stopped Cor from asking again and again, like he had to be sure the responses were real, and not someone speaking to his status as the Immortal. That it wasn't a subordinate answering his superior officer. Not that Ignis hadn't considered calling him _Marshal_ in bed.

Under his fingers, the muscles of Cor's back flexed and tensed. 

He was close, and Ignis knew how to get him closer. 

"Come inside me," he said, and maybe Cor didn't make much noise, but Ignis felt the stutter of his hips as he lost his rhythm, only to pick it back up again with determination. Cor, and all of his serious expressions, difficult to read on the best of days, let the mask slip off in moments like this. Ignis let himself bask in it, wrapping his legs back around Cor's waist and looking up at his face, pleasure and tension right before the release. And when he came, he came inside of Ignis.

He sat up, and unwrapped himself from Ignis's arms in the process, which was a shame, but he didn't pull out the whole time he jerked Ignis off so that made up for it. Ignis wasn't so quiet when he came, and he didn't even have to try and make a show of it, all those tremors in his body thanks to the practiced hand rubbing his cock. He hoped Cor didn't have nosey neighbors. He hoped the walls between them were thick, because sometimes he got loud, and the noise he made when Cor untangled his legs and separated their bodies could have been called whiney at best and not something he wanted outsiders looking in on. He wanted it a secret between them alone.

Cor collapsed on the bed next to him, and after catching his breath, Ignis moved in closer. They'd have to get up eventually, clean themselves off, but for now... for now, he could stay like this. There was a little feeling of victory when Cor absently wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Ignis wondered if he actually liked it when he got cuddly afterwards. Or if this was all just another facet of the little game that they played.

"I can drive you home, if you don't want to stay."

Cor offered every time, as if he felt the need to always give Ignis an out. And so, Ignis didn't take it personally. 

They'd both be up early, enough so that Ignis could get home and showered before going over to Noct's and the Marshal could be present at early morning drills. It wasn't as if he didn't have incentive to stay, not the racing thoughts of Cor and the desperation for every peek into his private life that he kept so carefully hidden. If he woke up with morning wood, Cor would be more than happy to help him take care of that as well. 

"I want to stay." 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Cor Leonis was always like a part of the Citadel, like the King was a part of the Citadel, that you couldn’t have one without the other. He was always there, for as long as Ignis could remember, standing guard with that same stern expression on his face. As sturdy and unmoving and eternal as any of the architecture around him, another wall that surrounded the Royals. Ignis was in awe, before he was ever even old enough to fully understand who he was in awe of, a feeling that expanded over time as he absorbed the intricacies of the people and politics that made up his world. Awe and admiration, staring at the Marshal in full uniform during every formal event that demanded his attendance. Respect whenever he was present at council meetings, with an understanding of battles and wars that was as commendable as it was heartbreaking because knowing the rules of battle meant having lived through enough death to know how to keep alive and fighting.

At age 16, Ignis began weapons training.

There was a meeting in Cor’s office, formal and brief, informing Ignis that this was to be a part of his duties now too. Gladiolus may have been the Prince's shield, but that didn’t mean Ignis couldn’t be a knife.

He sat serious and nodding, always ready to accept and execute whatever was expected of him and wanting Cor to know it too. He left the room when he was dismissed with a time and a place and the name of the Guard that would be training him.

The word disastrous felt like it was putting things mildly. 

Ignis had always been bookish. He knew this and had no illusions about where he would be starting, a novice among novices with little more knowledge that what he'd picked up from osmosis during quick and occasional viewings of Gladio teaching Noctis. He had expected to start with the basics- welcomed the idea, that he should receive thorough training from the ground up to build a solid foundation. What he did not expect was to show up, eager and ready to learn and be met with a trainer that looked at him with disinterested boredom and couldn't be bothered to teach him anything useful. 

It burned him. That he wasn't to be taken seriously, that his lessons were lackadaisical at best, and week after week he left the training rooms with bitter disappointment, barely even having broken a sweat as he was taught a couple of stances and a half assed explanation of how to hold his weapons and little else.

He tried. Truly he did try, either to see the merit in what he was learning, that this was all leading up to... something. But the longer it went on the more he knew he couldn't stand sitting by and saying nothing. But that was the trouble wasn't it-if he complained, he was proving them all right, everyone that questioned how he got his position, his usefulness. Everyone that doubted he could ever be trusted with something like this. Ignis heard all the talk. He fought it off for as long as he could, but he couldn't ever stand wasting time.

If the Marshal was surprised when Ignis showed up at his office, he didn't show it, like he didn't show surprise when Ignis made sure the door was solidly shut behind him. He knew what it would look like. The prim and proper Prince's Chamberlain, young and smug and entitled, complaining that his weapons training wasn't good enough. It was bad enough to have to say anything at all, and it would be worse if anyone found out that he did. But the Marshal had to know. Because if Ignis was to disappoint him with his lack of progress, he at least wanted him to know the reason.

Cor sat and listened, serious and expressionless and only nodding occasionally, and when Ignis stopped talking, he gave him a moment's silence, should he wish to continue, then asked, "Is that everything?" 

Ignis nodded, and he got no conversation or reassurance, nothing but Cor dismissing him. 

It was hard not to be disheartened by it, and he wondered if he'd let Cor down in the end anyway. If he was to blame for his own failures in training. The thought soured him until he felt sick with it, and he tried not to sit with it for long.

If there was one thing that traveled quickly through the Citadel, it was gossip. 

Rumor had it, as Ignis overheard through conversations echoing in the halls already the next morning, Cor Leonis had given the equivalent of a verbal spanking to one of the best Crownsguard trainers. In front of a full room of recruits, no less. That he'd seen the trainer slacking, that he found his performance appalling, saying _when I give you orders to follow, I expect them followed_. And all this only after Cor assigned him early morning drills for the rest of the month and reassignment guarding the West Gate.

Ignis waited for the other shoe to drop- that he'd been the one to instigate the mess, that this was all his fault. But those rumors never came. His name was hardly mentioned, with Cor giving the impression that he'd found one of his men slacking all on his own. That was alright with Ignis. The consideration of the situation, Cor sparing him from scorn, it made him feel oddly warm.

No one addressed him directly about it. His training hadn't been cancelled but he couldn't imagine how it would continue after that. But Ignis was Ignis, and having no reason not to, he showed up at his scheduled training time, punctual as he always was.

And found Cor Leonis waiting for him.

"I'll be overseeing your training personally from now on," he said, and Ignis had nodded and found it hard to speak or even really look him head on. He was embarrassed. He was flattered. He didn't know why the Marshal should take it on himself when there must have been dozens of other people suitable for the job, and so many other important things to do. 

But Ignis couldn't say he regretted it. One lesson with Cor was worth a thousand of what he'd previously been taught, and he pushed Ignis harder and harder, forcing him to do better without ever being cruel. Ignis clung on to every word, every piece of advice and every bit of praise and he memorized them all.

He memorized the feel of Cor Leonis's hands, warm and rough, moving his body into corrected positions, hands over his showing him how to properly wield a dagger.

And already at age 16, Ignis new he was in trouble.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I have something for you.”

Cor was looking at him with an intense sort of curiosity, as Ignis tilted his head and asked, “something for me?”

It explained the way Cor had been taking his time at least, deep kisses while they stood in his bedroom without the quick invitation for more. A buildup of a different kind.

Cor went to his closet and produced a box. Black and wrapped with a silvery bow. A gift. There the smallest pause of hesitation before Cor extended the box to him. “Only if you want it,” he said.

Now Ignis was the curious one, felt it pricking up his spine as he reached out to accept it. What kind of gift came with an open invitation to decline? With anticipation, he tugged on the end of the bow, slowly pulling it apart and releasing the box from its hold. He lifted the top to see carefully folded tissue paper inside, and Ignis pushed it apart to reveal his gift. 

It took a moment to register what he was looking at, all folded in the box, layers of sheer fabric in a dusky purple hue, criss crossed with velvet straps. 

Lingerie. Cor had bought him lingerie. 

"Only if you want it," he said again, quieter this time, but not exactly shy, not quite so tentative to not ask for what he wanted. Ignis looked at him, his own heart pounding for reasons he didn't know, and let actions speak for themselves as he took the box with him into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

In the bright light Ignis could see what his eyes had missed in the near-darkness of the bedroom. The quality of it, the tedious stitches and elite craftsmanship, probably hand made and imported from somewhere fancy like Altissia. He picked it up by the straps, black and velvety and dotted with little bows where they met the rest of the garment. A chemise. Empire waist defined by more of those criss crossing straps, that airy fabric, soft and cool to the touch, moving like liquid, draped down just far enough so that it would just hit Ignis at the start of his thighs. He held it up to himself in the mirror before starting to get undressed, chewing on thoughts and spitting them out until he hit the right one; _this is something a man buys his mistress_. 

Ignis was not a stranger to fine things, surrounded by the grandeur of Royalty spending his days at the Citadel. And something like this, the delicate fancy little flimsy thing, meant to be worn only temporarily had probably cost more than a week's worth of his salary. It was a strange thought- that as well compensated as he was, things like this could still catch him off guard. But he'd always been frugal. Buying bargains and stitching up holes in worn clothes instead of getting something new. What money he did make mostly went into savings, just in case... But in case of what, he never did know. Force of habit, then. From growing up with middle class parents and their own frugalities, until his Uncle saw fit to drag him into the life he had now, to some fateful meeting with the right people when the King had been looking for companions for his son. Fate had funny ways of happening. 

In the bottom of the box was a garter belt, with more black straps and little bows, and a pair of stockings to match, accented with darker stripes where they would circle the tops of his thighs. He was clumsy with the clasps, fingers fumbling with unfamiliarity, and after everything was on and fastened he still worried they were crooked or uneven where he couldn't see. But it all fit over his skin like a glove. He had to wonder if Cor had somehow gotten his measurements, or if they'd just spent that much time with each others bodies.

No panties. Nothing but that little bit of sheer purple fabric draping down to cover him and do a poor job of hiding the fact that just getting dressed up he was starting to get hard. Because he realized in the back of his head that no panties meant Cor could fuck him without having to get him undressed. 

He took a breath. He swallowed hard.

He left the bathroom.

Cor was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him, already mostly undressed, and when his eyes shot up at the sound of Ignis opening the door, time stilled. Cor took that moment as Ignis stepped forward to look him up and down. Just a look, but in that look was something hungry and wanting, his pupils so wide in the dim room Ignis thought he might get sucked in and swallowed up and he would just keep on falling. Cor stood, just for a moment and just to drop the rest of his clothes and then he sat back on the bed again, and reached his hand out. An invitation for Ignis to come to him. So Ignis did.

A few steps, and Cor taking him apart all the way. Their hands met and Ignis was guided onto his lap. They’d done this before. The looking, the fucking, but now it all felt different like it was the first time again. He wrapped his arms around Cor’s neck to hold himself steady, and those hands coursed over him, feeling his skin through the sheer fabric, running up his thighs and the stockings that covered them, fingers plucking at the garters and straps like he was an instrument, sitting, waiting for Cor to being to play.

“Do you like it?” Cor asked him, hands finally coming to rest at Ignis’s hips, bunched full of fabric. Ignis watched Cor watching him, the magnetized way he kept drinking Ignis in, and the press of that thick erection against him.

“Yes,” Ignis breathed, “I like it.”

Ignis kissed him because he could, and kept kissing him as Cor got to work, all those teasing touches working their way back to his furrowed hole and Ignis moaned into his mouth when Cor slipped a finger in. It was all to tease him, to build up all that want and anticipation, like Ignis wasn't already brimming with it. He tightened his grip around Cor's neck, pouring himself into every kiss and rocking his hips to try and encourage Cor's finger in deeper, to get him moving faster. But Cor would not be rushed. It was when Cor deemed Ignis desperate enough to be overwhelmingly ready, then and only then did he line his cock up in the cleft of Ignis's ass, and pushed himself in slow.

Ignis was gasping against his mouth as he lowered himself down, helping Cor get himself inside. They stayed there for a moment, when Cor was in all the way and Ignis couldn’t push his hips down any lower, so he rocked them instead. Rocked them while he felt the way Cor touched him through the sheer fabric, as if to memorize the feel of his body through that barely-there outfit. It was with that guiding touch that Ignis began to shift his rocking hips into more exaggerated movements, faster and faster until he was slamming himself down onto Cor’s lap and running out of breath.

They could only kiss for so long when breathing started getting heavy, but Ignis kept their mouths close.

He lived for moments like these. When Cor could turn him into nothing but a vessel for all of that pleasure, his body made of nerve endings all buzzing with static electricity. Moments when he didn't have to think. When he wasn't his job or his duty. He wasn't anyone or anything. Just a man, like Cor was just a man.

He got come all over his new gift.

It flooded him, sudden and sharp and then he was moaning Cor’s name as all of his muscles clenched. Cor must have followed soon after, as he kept thrusting up, and Ignis was so dazed he barely noticed, limp and boneless after his orgasm, Cor’s arms around him the only thing keeping him upright.

Gently, Cor undid the fastening on the back of the chemise, and help Ignis slip it off without making any more of a mess, and to the bedroom floor it fluttered. Ignis didn’t want to move and Cor didn’t seem to want to move him, so they kept on the ledge of the bed, Cor going soft inside of him, gently sucking on the skin just above his clavicle.

Ignis wondered if Cor wanted to mark him up. Love bites or bruises. Ignis would have liked carrying them around, seeing them on his skin when they were away from each other, something to make the memory last longer, tangible proof that their encounters happened. But there was propriety to be considered. He could keep it hidden under the cuffs of his suits, but the suits had to come off sometimes, and in the training locker rooms he wasn’t often alone.

A shudder escaped him when they separated, and Ignis felt the release that Cor had left inside of him drip back out and land on Cor's thigh. Left in his garters and stockings, he lay on the bed watching as Cor grabbed a tissue to clean it off.

He pulled Cor down next to him as soon as he was in range, wanting to touch and feel and do it all over again, pushing Cor onto his back so Ignis could do what he wanted, starting with a trail of kisses and nips down the center of Cor's chest, down to where the trail of hair started at his stomach. It took some coaxing with his mouth to get Cor hard again, so soon after they'd just finished, but Ignis was nothing if not determined.

And horny. Determined and horny.

But he knew what Cor liked, a point of pride for him, as he ran his tongue over Cor's stiffening cock, his hand wrapped around the base where his mouth couldn't reach. A hand ran through his hair, so gentle it was almost tender, so Ignis sucked him down deeper. 

Cor fucked him on all fours the second time around, when they were both keyed up and eager and that tenderness went away again, traded out for the usual frantic need. The slick sound of it was lewd, Cor slamming into him from behind with such force that Ignis couldn't keep himself propped up for very long, muffling himself into one of the pillows in front of him instead. Right up until the end, when Cor flipped him on his back again and finished him off with his hands pinned over his head, Cor hot and close over him, damp with sweat and overwhelmed with need. 

He got come all over his new garter belt too. 

It was leisurely unfastened from his hips and slid down his long legs along with the stockings, and Cor paused for a moment to press a kiss to the inside of his thigh. A dangerous thing to do. Too much more of that and Ignis would try to get him to go for a third time around. But they settled into the bed without incident, after cleaning up and pulling the covers over themselves. 

"I'd like to stay, if that's alright," Ignis had said, feeling bold.

Cor nodded and said, "Of course.

Soon after, Cor was slipping into sleep next to him, so different now with the muscles in his face slack and his eyes closed. He could be anyone. He could belong to anyone.

Court gossip was ill kept and traveled fast and no, Ignis thought, if there was ever anyone important, some secret long term significant other, someone would have caught wind and he would know. He who had his ear to the ground at all times, Ignis would have heard something. He would know. But there was another side to that fact, and it was the knowledge that Cor Leonis played by no one’s rules but his own and if he wanted a secret kept, then a secret it was. Like Ignis, their rendezvous, his gift of lingerie. A secret between them. There could be others, like a secret lover that filled Cor’s bed on nights that Ignis wasn’t there. A secret lover living somewhere like Duscae and none the wiser about what Cor got up to while they were away.

But no, that seemed unlikely when every bit of Cor’s home was nothing but his own. A single toothbrush, no sets of clothes that weren’t his. Someone else would have left a mark, something Ignis would have seen.

He thought of all those nights lined up, how they added up, more and more. How frequently it felt like he became a staple of Cor’s bed.

There wasn’t anything of his there either.

Ignis rolled over and closed his eyes and tried to fall sleep.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

They were the same, him and Cor. For as many ways as they were different, they were the same.

It was a source of comfort, when Ignis caught the looks of skepticism that no one thought he could see, when he heard the whispers of doubt that he wasn't supposed to hear. It helped to know that there was one that came before him, someone else not of nobility, that had too much fire in his blood for his own good, that had fought and fought and earned respect at such a young age. No one would dream of saying something against him now. Cor had proven them wrong when they doubted him. Ignis could too.

There was a threshold crossed at some point, unbeknownst to Ignis, but suddenly he was to be considered an adult. An adult with all the new adult responsibilities that they’d been grooming him for without him even knowing it. All of his secret obligations to the Crown that no one had thought to tell him until now.

It was subtle at first, in the way that now there was no longer information kept off limits to him. There were no conversations he wasn’t supposed to hear, where words dried up as he entered the room. Now he was brought into it, welcomed to it. Not just the overview of battles and clinical counts of injury and death, but all the gory details. The names of spies. The names of traitors.

War was ugly. He knew this, had known it for as long as he could remember. He just never knew by how much.

There was a summons to Cor’s office waiting for him one morning, first thing when he came to the Citadel. He hadn’t thought it was any cause for concern. He didn’t know how his obligations were about to be stretched and expanded to what the Crown had always wanted him for, and if Cor had seemed more serious that morning Ignis couldn’t have said he noticed it. At least… not at first. Not until after they’d exchanged formal pleasantries and instead of asking Ignis to sit, Cor stood up.

“Come with me,” he’d said looking grim but Cor always had a way of looking grim, so Ignis didn’t dwell on it. “There’s been a new development.”

Ignis followed, wondering what Cor could possibly mean and knowing better than to ask what this was all about or where they were going. He would find out soon enough. But when they got into the elevator instead of heading up to the top floors as Ignis had suspected, as was usual with important political business or with breaking news from the front, instead they started going down.

And down, and down.

And it was then that the pieces started to fit together because nothing good came from the underground levels of the Citadel and if Cor had put on his serious, impenetrable mask and hadn’t given Ignis any warning of what was to come, if this wasn’t something planned __or if__ , if it was and they’d simply been keeping Ignis in the dark while knowing what was to come, well, it didn’t speak of anything good.

The door opened to bare fluorescent lights and concrete walls all missing that familiar over-embellishment that made up the entirety of the Citadel.

The bowels of the building. Not called dungeons for the sake of propriety but dungeons all the same.

Ignis followed him down a narrow corridor, Cor walking with a purpose and determination that made him nervous and more than anything he didn’t want Cor to see it. He could handle whatever Cor wanted him to do. He wouldn’t be a disappointment. Not to anyone, not to Prince Noctis, not to King Regis, and especially not to Cor. The Marshal. His mentor, his idol.

His object of affection. His friend.

They stopped in front of a door, nondescript as anything else they had passed and Ignis waited while Cor stood silent in a pause that stretched on for too long. Ignis wasn’t nervous. He wouldn't admit to being nervous in front of Cor the Immortal.

“You’re aware we keep spies within the Niflheim Empire,” Cor spoke towards the door, then turned those steely blue eyes on to Ignis.

“Yes Sir,” he said, though it hadn’t been a question.

“Then you’re aware the Empire does the same.”

“Sir?” He asked because there didn’t seem to be anything right to say, and if he didn’t know any better, if he didn’t think that Cor was incapable of doing something so human, Ignis would say he was stalling.

“We’ve caught an enemy spy, Ignis,” he said, and then opened the door and led Ignis into the room.

It was dark, an observation room of sorts, filled with recording equipment and fitted with a one way mirror that opened up into a view of the space adjacent, empty save for a man strapped to a seat with a black bag over his head.

And while things fit together in his mind, full of realizations and connecting dots, of all the signs that this was where things had eventually headed, on the other side of the mirror, Captain Drautos came into view. He removed the black bag. Next to him, Cor Leonis took a breath, so subtle Ignis shouldn’t have been able to tell, and he clasped his hands behind his back, eyes locked on the scene in the other room. And Ignis, gut twisting and looping over and over, and trying not to cringe because he knew what was to come, attempted to do the same. Tried to keep his eyes focused when the interrogation started, and he thought, for all that his insides had rebelled and rioted inside of him, he thought he did a fairly good job of hiding it.

He thought.

Cor found him in the bathroom afterwards.

That was its own brand of humiliation, to get caught on his knees in front of a toilet and he hadn’t even heard the door open when Cor came in. He hadn’t heard anything but the endless roaring in his ears, not until he felt a warm palm land between his shoulders, and he looked up to see Cor bent down on one knee next to him. A brief view, before he had to turn his attention back to the bowl, eyes and face burning, knowing now his secret thoughts were in the open just as clear as if he had spoken them out loud. Humiliation it was then, at his softness and inability to do his job, as he should. This was war. War called for drastic measures. War called for the unsavory, and Ignis knew these were things he was required to be a part of, and bleeding hearts were frowned upon. Bleeding hearts didn’t last long.

He didn’t want to be a disappointment. He didn’t want Cor to think he was a child, that he couldn’t handle his duties. His body shook. But when he looked back to Cor, it wasn’t distaste in his expression, as Ignis had expected. It was too soft for that, and that almost made things worse.

“It gets easier,” Cor said, and rubbed a line up and down the center of Ignis’s back, and his empathy made Ignis ache. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if that makes things any better. But it gets easier.”

 

  

* * *

 

 

A black box appeared in his locker in the training rooms, some afternoon when Ignis had enough free time to spar with Gladio. He did a double take, mind blank and heart racing, and even if thoughts felt difficult to string together he felt the dangerous threat of a smile nearby. That would be bad. The last thing he needed was Gladio prying at him to find out what he was smiling and turning red over. Him and Cor hadn't ever discussed it but they didn’t need to when the situation was clear; should anyone at the Citadel catch wind of their _arrangement_ , there would be trouble. Trouble that would mostly be reserved for Ignis, as Cor had long ago solidified his position, his respect and friendship with King Regis. He might take heat for it, but he wouldn’t be replaced. But if Regis didn't approve then…

Trouble for them both. And so, their time spent alone was secret.

The box was smaller this time, just over the size of his palm, and lightweight. Easy enough for Ignis to slip it inside of his bag in a casual sweep, feeling giddy with anticipation to see what was inside. A bounce in his step, maybe, all eager limbs and too much energy while he faced off against Gladiolus. Easy to burn off energy in a physical setting, but by the end of their session he was near climbing the walls.

He waited until he was safe in his apartment, door locked solidly behind him, and yet Ignis was still nervous, like someone might come walking in. This was new territory for them. He’d never gotten gifts for no reason, not from _anyone_ , and he’d never gotten gifts like _this_.

There was a bow attached to the corner of the box, silver again and slightly smashed from being in his bag. He lifted the lid to see more of that familiar tissue paper, and nestled in the middle was a delicate pair of panties. Wine red, less fabric than open spaces through which to see skin, all made of embroidered flowers, and little more than thin straps for the behind. Dangerously pretty. And over the course of the night Ignis kept going back to them, picking them up, rubbing the fabric between his fingers again and again, like his mind kept running over them, again and again. The giddiness didn't go away. If anything, it doubled.

He wore them under his clothes that week, undetectable and secret, on a day he knew he’d be seeing Cor. He didn’t say anything, and it wasn’t as if there was space or time or privacy to say it even if he wanted to, but from the way that Cor was looking at him, he thought maybe he knew.

Cor knew.

And it was only a matter of time before there was another box in his locker.

Another piece of lingerie, a waist cincher of silk covered boning and black panels of fabric, alternating stripes of opaque and sheer giving it an air of the burlesque. There were garter straps attached to the base, like streaming ribbons, and there were another pair of stockings along with it. Black lines up the back, fancified with looped embellishments, intricate and swirled.

He tried it on, at home, alone, in the safety of his own bathroom, turning and turning in front of the mirror, as a ballerina on display. Except that no one was there with him to see it. There was no stage for him to parade across, no willing audience of Cor.

And then another box.

The next one was curious in its weight, much heavier than the other two, but the smallest yet, and Ignis put it in his bag with all the rest until he could admire the gift in private, wheels in his head grinding over what could be inside. Not lingerie, it couldn't be. He made wild guesses and did his best to land of the correct answer, but perhaps he wasn't trying very hard because in the end it was obvious. And something he hadn't considered. 

A plug. Heavy stainless steel, not particularly large, but in a raindrop shape that made Ignis's hair stand on end when he saw it. He could picture how it would look, nothing visible but that round silver base, and he sat and stared at it for a very long time. Then took it with him into the bedroom.

" _Did you use it?_ "

Cor, voice rough and breath hot on Ignis's ear the next time they spent the night together, over a week later. He didn't have to specify what _it_ was.

" _Ye_ s," Ignis said.

He'd kept the plug in while he jerked off in his bed, lace panties yanked off and tangled around his ankles, writhing in pleasure and thinking thoughts of Cor. And about sending him a picture.

In another life he would have. If they didn't have to worry about appearances or bad press, if they didn't have to look over their shoulders before every meeting, if Ignis was braver, if he'd finished that bottle of wine with dinner (dinner eaten alone), then he would have. He thought about Cor, where he would be or who he might have been with, if he was with someone  _ _special__ , and Ignis's skin tingled at the thought of Cor getting a message like that if he was.

This was not another life, and if somewhere were to see a picture like that, an accident or an unsecured phone, if it were to be leaked, if the press were to get ahold of it, if the King were to see it, if the Council where to know. 

This was their lot in life. That's how things were.

So Ignis said, “ _yes_ ,” and Cor kissed him senseless throughout the night while Ignis clung onto him, lost in fantasies where duty didn’t have to come first, and he had Cor all to himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis was all intuition and perception. Trained from so much time spent in the Council room with politicking and saying things without saying them, too many run-ins with Royalty, too much doubt directed his way, but Ignis with a position too strong for anyone to be so blunt about it. Survival instincts, honed from having to know where he stood at all times, who he could trust and who didn’t trust him; and that wasn’t even among the enemy.

More similarities then, between Cor and himself and the ways they closed themselves off while watching others. He never knew what Cor was thinking, but with enough watching over the years, with enough learning and with all the time he spent looking too long when he could get away with it, day dreaming and noticing every twitch and every detail, Ignis thought he was learning. He could believe that maybe there was a code to be cracked in the crease of Cor’s forehead or the line of his mouth. He didn’t want to admit that he was desperate.

Because at that point in time, Ignis could pretend that it was all still that hero fascination. That he was simply working to make the Marshal proud in the same way he was quick to act and react to whatever his Majesty or his Highness needed. He could pretend his face didn’t heat up on the rare occasion that Cor caught him looking; or rather deigned to let Ignis know that he’d caught him looking. Surely all along Cor had known, read Ignis like an open book. But he was reserved where propriety deigned he ought to be, and so Ignis was left to his perceptions and his imagination. He was left to make the first move.

All those moments left questions in his mind. There were times when Cor might touch his shoulder, might linger on his form when they were training, but even if it failed to feel clinical, there was something about those moments and the cautious respect in them. Never predatory, never that prickly feeling of discomfort that Ignis got when started at him too long with interest, someone he wasn’t interested in himself. Cor was warmth instead. Cor was comfort. And Cor Leonis did not frequently offer those things up freely. The scale tipped farther and father to one side.

Sometimes he came by while Ignis was working, as if on a whim. It only started after he brought Ignis to the basement, and so it was logical, perhaps, to think that guilt was all it was. Cor taking Ignis’s hand and dragging him down to show him the underbelly of war. But those visits too, felt less condescending, or worrying, or guilty, or parental, they felt…

While he was working late one night, Cor offered to drive him home.

There was nothing underhanded about it, as much as Ignis had found it curious, while being too tired to say no. It was the first time they were together outside of the Citadel. Not that either of them every spent much time away, but to be away together was another bridge crossed. More weight on the scale while Ignis dreamed of clear blue eyes and strong hands and a stern mouth. He dreamed of someone that had long inspired him and he dreamed of things one ought not to talk about. Not when dreaming about a superior, not when dreaming about someone so much older, so much more experience so Ignis dreamed in secret, until he couldn't stand it being secret anymore. When he realized this was no fleeting attraction, not something that would fade, unless he either walked forward or got his hand slapped and was forced to walk back.

He kissed Cor in his office because there had to be a first time for everything.

It became clear that Cor would not be the one to make the first move. Not when it was Ignis.

It was clear after so long of knowing him, that Cor would not be the one to make the first move. Not when it was Ignis. And Ignis, who was nothing but restraint and good behavior, realized that this was one thing that, if he wanted it, he would have to initiate it himself. 

The sun was mirrored in the glare off of the glass and metal out the window, the other buildings shining in late afternoon sun. Cor was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at Ignis and waiting for him to explain what the sudden visitation was for, but Ignis didn't speak. His voice was trapped somewhere down the back of his throat because he knew what he wanted to do and didn't know if he could do it.

So he didn't let himself think about it any more. He walked forward, too close into personal space, and Cor didn't draw back. It made Ignis more confident when he leaned it, neck stretched long, and straining not to hover on the balls of his feet.

Cor tasted like his afternoon coffee. His hands, that Ignis had memorized the feeling of, the warmth and the roughness, were the same as always when they came up to Ignis's sides, inside of his suite jacket to be closer to the skin. Warm, as they came up and held Ignis's face.

The next time Cor was gave him a ride, a warm palm came to rest on his thigh, and Cor asked if Ignis wanted to come back home with him.

_Yes_ , Ignis said, _yes_. 

  

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis was thinking.

If he considered something a problem, he could puzzle it out in his mind. He could come up with a course of action, a plan, list every outcome and let his clinical mind take over to find a practical solution. One with the best possible outcome.

But the _problem_ _w_ as that Cor was _not_ a problem. He was so very often the opposite - the solution. To Ignis's insecurities, uncertainties, silent understanding when Ignis needed it most, and now, more than ever, he was a soothing balm over the aching loneliness that Ignis sometimes felt, stretched thin and pushing himself to the limit. He had friends. He had Noctis and Gladio and now Prompto too, who would always be there for him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate them, it was that Cor offered something different. Something he didn't know he needed until he felt the difference between sleeping with Cor and sleeping alone, something that reared its head when he had thoughts about Cor being intimate with other people, and __that__ was a problem.

But it was a problem of the heart. And for all that Ignis knew as fact, he knew that this was one area where he knew nothing. Clinical solutions and logical thinking meant nothing, and that meant he was at a loss.

So, after so much puzzling and thinking and listing pros and cons, Ignis made a decision.

In his own apartment, Ignis stared himself down in his mirror as had sometimes become his late night habit, his head oddly quiet, even with his body playing out all the telltale signs of his anxiety; the racing heart, the tightened stomach. Again he turned, looking at himself over his shoulder so he could see up the back of himself. And again, he turned forward, hands awkwardly tugging and fussing where there was nothing left to straighten or fuss. He was procrastinating, such a very __un__ -Ignis thing to do, but he could only kill so much time until he would have to back out of his plan entirely. So on went another layer of clothes, uncomfortable as they were, so that should anyone see him, he would look the same as always. But should anyone see him, he would be visiting the home of Cor Leonis in the dead of night. That would take its own explaining, regardless of the rest.

And what if that someone seeing him was someone spending the night with the Marshal? What if Ignis’s strange impulsion led him to things he didn’t want to see?

He sat behind the wheel of his car after making the slow drive over. He’d come this far. Ignis couldn’t stand the thought of backing down now.

There wasn’t anyone around. Ignis knew because as he walked to Cor’s front door he was watching. Yet another little trick from all his training, the hyperawareness of his surroundings at all times. But it brought him calm, as he raised a fist and knocked with a steady hand on the solid wood door.

He had to be patient, even when everything inside of him was screaming for impatience, for him to bang on the door, make himself know, shove himself inside. He kept still, and soon enough he caught the faint sounds of someone walking towards the door, the subtle sound of the floor shifting under weight, and the click as the door was unlocked, then cracked open. The serious face of Cor appearing in the crevice, his expression rearranging, and the door opening just a touch more, as he said, “Ignis?”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” The words were out in a rush, and all of Ignis’s bravado, his ideas of storming in with confidence and swagger as he took what he wanted, running straight down the drain with them. Once again, he was Ignis. Only Ignis, speaking to his superior officer, Cor the Immortal.

“You’re not,” Cor said, and opened the door all the way to let Ignis inside. A single look around was almost enough to satisfy, the lights all mostly off, the quiet insulation of the townhouse. If Cor had a lover over then he was doing a damn good job of playing off his solitude and keeping them hidden. It gave Ignis the sharp boost of strength that he needed.

Behind him the door fell shut and Ignis, with bravery that he hadn’t felt since the first time, tugged Cor down by his collar so their mouths could collide in an ungraceful, desperate kiss.

“I wanted to see you,” Ignis gasped between kisses because this was his first time. The first time he came on his own, the first time he wasn’t waiting on Cor to initiate. Cor’s hands were all over him, running up his sides, down his back, and if he felt any indication of what was underneath, he didn’t show it. So Ignis decided to show him instead.

In the front hallway of Cor’s home, in front of the stairs, just off the kitchen, with hands that thankfully were not shaking, Ignis started unbuttoning his shirt.

Cor was too close to him. It wasn’t a show, not from the rapid way he was undressing, and so conscious of how he was being watched.

He was learning what Cor liked.

Off slipped his shirt to show Ignis in the waist cincher of black, the gift that Cor had given him but had yet to see. His hands didn’t fumble until they came to the button of his pants, but Cor was there to help him, more on the front of frantic than romantic, and Ignis liked to think that he was filled with that much need.

No panties. Because, as Ignis had learned, Cor liked him dressed up without them. His pants were pushed down, the layer over layers awkward, and Ignis was happy to be shedding clothes. He wore the gift stockings as well, hooked in with the garter straps that had been meticulously straightened over and over again. And when he was removed from all those extra layers, Cor devoured him with his eyes before hands came up to Ignis’s face, to tilt his head back and kiss him fully, less haphazard than before.

Cor let Ignis and his wandering hands tug off his shirt, he let Ignis’s wandering mouth kiss his face, his neck his chest, he let Ignis unbutton his pants, pull the zipper down, strip him entirely while they were still standing there in the doorway.

He pressed Ignis up against the wall, and when Cor lifted him, Ignis wrapped his leg’s around Cor’s hips, both of them hard, both of them ready and brimming with sudden anticipation. Ignis had readied himself beforehand, and had no trouble guiding Cor’s cock inside him, let out such a long breath as Cor pushed deeper.

It was like it always was, and yet it wasn’t. It was fast and hard in the usual way, Cor gripping hard on one of his thighs, his other arm supporting Ignis against the wall. But there was an edge, something underneath, something Ignis wanted to hold on to, except he couldn’t pin it down so he held on to Cor instead, gasping at the feeling of him, and so tense with all the built up anxiety leading up to this, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he came.

His only surprise was that Cor should be right there with him.

It felt like it was over before he had a chance to really enjoy it, a drawn out moment bathed in white vision and then Cor was there against him, breathing heavy and his hips stopped, the mess that Ignis made between them. The mess that Cor made inside of him.

There weren’t any words between them but Cor kept Ignis held to him, his legs still wrapped tight and Cor carried him upstairs and to the bedroom, gently laying him down. He pulled away, but pressed a kiss to Ignis’s forehead, something Ignis couldn’t recall him ever doing before.

It felt almost silly that they should have cleaned themselves off when it was only a matter of time before Cor was climbing on top of Ignis again, ready to kiss him, ready to fill him. He stroked Ignis until he was hard, his hand maddeningly loose in its grip, and Ignis was left bucking his hips up searching for more. That made Cor smile, in what was no doubt an infuriating self-satisfied way, but Ignis couldn’t see it, only felt it against his mouth.

“More,” he said, “ _more_.”

So Cor gave it to him.

He teased Ignis’s entrance with the head of his cock, rubbing it back and forth before, with enough moaning on Ignis’s part, he finally pushed in. It was like it had been downstairs, too close, there wasn’t enough space between them, but space wasn’t what Ignis wanted. He wanted Cor.

His fingers dug into Cor’s back when he felt it building. Cor could have backed off, made it last longer, but he only dug deeper instead, a point to prove maybe, about giving Ignis what he wanted in a way no one else could. He couldn’t breathe, a background part of his brain wishing the waist cincher was off, and then climax was washing over him, drowning out everything else. Everything but Cor, breathing against his neck and the sudden clench of his muscles, the sudden feeling of his cock pulsing as he came.

It wasn’t the first piece of lingerie that Ignis had dirtied, though there was a little pang of disappointment when he saw a run in one of the stockings already. He’d underestimated how tightly Cor had been holding on to his thighs.

It was nice, afterwards, the slow process of Cor undressing him, loosening metal hooks and peeling off the stockings. Ignis was hitting his adrenaline crash and Cor looked tired himself. A rigorous fucking would do that to a man. With the lights off and the covers over them, Ignis was too drained to let doubts or questions bother him. He rolled closer to Cor and Cor draped arms over him, and then both fell asleep.

The morning was not quite so kind.

Ignis was up early, even given his usual schedule, and bleary-eyed he looked at Cor sleeping next to him, all soft lines and relaxed postures. It would be easy to lay there, ignore any second guessing that might creep in, but Ignis wanted to clear his head, to put his new thoughts in line together with the old.

He was quiet getting out of bed, searching Cor’s drawers for a t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs (seeing as how he’d had none of his own). He needed coffee, something strong enough to wake him up and give him a chance to think, so Ignis made his way downstairs to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes along the way.

He thought of how to broach the subject while watching the pot fill, and that familiar, comforting smell filled the room. Cor, it seemed, was not above spending his wealth on ridiculously overpriced coffee, but after Ignis took his first sip from a steaming cup, he couldn’t say he minded one bit.

He heard the creak of the floor from upstairs.

Too soon, almost, as Ignis hadn’t had half a chance to get his mind straight, and though he even know Cor was awake, he’d been so quiet, Ignis didn’t know he was there in the kitchen until Cor said, “Pour me a cup?”

Ignis complied, leaving the coffee black like he knew Cor liked it, and he felt a twinge, low in his gut while he watched Cor taking sips over his own mug. Dreams of other mornings like this, of quiet mornings spent together, of more nights like last night. He bit the inside of his cheek, while thinking about how there were so many uncertainties and things he needed to know.

“Am I your mistress?”

The words were out of his mouth before he could help himself, and not in the dignified way he’d planned on brining up the question.

“My __what?__ ” Cor asked him, looking amused with a little bit of that teasing spark in his eyes, which made Ignis feel both better and worse. He felt his ears growing hot and dropped his eyes.

“An… incorrect term perhaps, for lack of a better one.”

Cor was giving him an even look, one too intense for Ignis not to break eye contact and he felt his face heat up, mentally kicking himself for rushing forward, blurting things out. But things were in the open now and he couldn’t exactly back down, pretend it hadn’t happen. If this was how things had to be, then so be it.

“Are you seeing other people?” He asked, and even not looking back at Cor, he knew he was being stared at.

After a moment that felt like it stretched on in front of him for far too long, Cor gave his definitive answer.

“No.”

Cor took Ignis’s hand in his and placed it on his chest over that steady beating heart.

"It's yours,” he said, “if you want it.” Ignis felt his pulse in the heat of his palm. “It's already been yours."

"Mine," Ignis said, trying the word in his mouth, and feeling the strong and stead beat. How strange that someone like him, who had given everything and every piece of himself up for the Crown, should be given something so precious to call his own. To be his and only his. Something so precious as a heart.

"Mine," he said again, the faintest smile curling around his lips and he pressed himself forward and felt Cor's arms wrap around him, holding him close, just the two of them, keeping him safe.

"All mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's been a lot of speculation about Ignis and the possibility that he was to become royale spymaster. it's an idea I've wanted to play with for a while and well nothing goes with smut like suffering!!! 
> 
> @ the-mad-duchess I hope you liked it!! consider chapter 2 a belated bday gift sorry I didn't manage to get it posted in time ladjfkjasd  
> thanks for always being rad fam, don't let life get you down because you're great & you're gonna do great things <3


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